


Wake Up Call

by Imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch



Category: The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: I just really like the idea of Hermes and Apollo as love/hate siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch/pseuds/Imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch
Summary: Apollo gets a visit from a god who doesn't mind a bit of rule-bending, and who is perfectly happy to tell Apollo he's being a moron.A bit of sibling like sort of fluff between Hermes and Apollo.





	Wake Up Call

I lay on the ground, wallowing in my misery like the acne ridden teenager I was, staring up at the greenish ceiling of the tent. Meg and I had put it up in a hurry and we hadn't done it quite right. I have plenty of experience putting up tents. Okay so maybe that experience was limited to watching my followers and admirers put up tents at various festivals through various countries. I’d then crash in whichever looked the comfiest - purely for the look of the thing since I didn't used to need things as mortal as sleep. But the point was I'd seen the process hundreds of times, so naturally the fact that there was now water collecting on the roof, seeping through the fabric and coming inside was clearly Meg's fault.

The water was dripping directly down onto my face. Meg was out hunting for food after sleeping for barely an hour or two but in tent she had stayed perfectly dry. She had probably slept happily on a bed of soft grass too, one that didn't poke her back through her sleeping bag like, for the sake of example, the sharp rocks that I was laying on. It seemed a bit unfair, but to my wallowing self it also seemed right. I had failed at being a god when I hadn't stopped Python, and now I was failing at being a mortal when I hadn't stopped Caligula killing Jason, when I hadn't been able to make a decision since.

The rain drumming against the tent made a good beat, but I was too miserable to create any lyrics to match it. The best I'd been able to come up with was a haiku:

Apollo is fail,

Can't even think of a song,

Was that right syllu-

It didn't exactly help my self-esteem.

A noise outside the tent made me sit up in alarm. The quick movement jogged the tent and I got a faceful of water as an unpleasant consequence. As I was spluttering and reaching blindly for some kind of weapon, the tent doors unzipped.

"Meg?"

"Not quite."

The voice was warm and mischievous. I wiped my face with a sleeve and found Hermes looking down at me in complete amusement. He was masquerading as a teenager, perhaps to annoy me since his boy next door appearance was movie perfect. His brown hair was wavy but it sat right and he had a flawless complexion - no spots to be seen.

"You!" I said with understandable trepidation. I have many siblings, almost too many to count, but Hermes was by far the most annoying. When we were younger he was always nicking my stuff - my records, my clothes, my sacred cows. And somehow each time I'd ended up forgiving him because I am kind and generous.

"I was asleep!" I complained. Hermes was king of liars and he saw right through that. He sat down, looking up at the water-logged ceiling with distaste.

"Don't you know how to put a tent?" he asked. I didn't dignify that with a response. Of course _Hermes_ would know how to put up a tent, being god of travellers.

Like many of the demi-gods I'd met, Hermes had a hard time keeping still. He put down my jacket, which he'd picked up to poke his hole through a tear caused by one of the many monsters I'd run into, and picked up my sword with a laugh.

"Do you actually use this?" he asked with a laugh, feinting towards me.

I lent away quickly, heart pounding. It was all very well Hermes accidentally (or not so accidentally) stabbing me during practice when we were both gods on Mount Olympus, but I didn't want his carelessness with sharp objects anywhere near my mortal self. 

"Are you supposed to be here?" I asked, trying to force his grip away from the sword. He dropped it, interest waning quickly.

"What happened to your bow?" Hermes asked almost at the same time.

I shrugged. I got the feeling he knew. His smile was sly and he had that look in his eyes he always got when he was preparing to call me a moron or hit me.

"I have a message," Hermes said, in answer to my question. He sat back, hugging his knees, suddenly more serious. I sat forward, eyes trained on his messenger bag.

"From father?"

"No." Hermes shrugged. "He doesn't actually know I'm here."

I felt like hitting him, but Hermes was currently bigger me and a god with immortality and cosmic powers at his disposal.

"It's from me," he continued. He drew back and took a deep breath, expression solemn.

"Stop being a moron!" he said, slapping me round the back of the head. Don't hit him, I reminded myself. Don't hit him or he'll "forget" you are mortal now and stab you. Or turn you into something. Or -

"Why are you sulking in a tent?" Hermes continued.

"I'm a failure of a god," I told him. "And a failure of a mortal."

It had sounded a valid reason in my head. Hermes did not look impressed.

"Yes," he agreed. "But that's never really stopped you before."

 _Don't_ hit him.

"A demi-god is dead because of me," I said.

"That is not ideal," Hermes admitted. "I can see why that might have dented your enormous ego. Though it's not like it ever bothered you before. Remember the Trojan War? That time in Paris?"

"This is the worst pep talk ever."

"We've already established you are the worst. I don't see why that means you've got to sulk in a tent because of it."

I didn't say anything.

"Is sulking in a tent part of your brilliant plan to bring him back?" Hermes demanded.

"No," I admitted in a small voice. I didn't like admitting anyone else was right, unless they were agreeing with what I'd said. It was worse to admit Hermes was right. He was a trouble maker and a pain in my attractive behind. He wasn't supposed to be all wise - that was Athena's gig. And really didn't Hermes have enough roles already?

"Then what's the deal?"

I stared at him. He stared back. He'd given himself a really good bone structure. If he were mortal too - and he might end up that way if father found out he was here - he might have been mistaken for my model brother, while I was the potato sibling. (I apparently also had the IQ of a root vegetable if that fact that I had gotten myself in such a state I had to listen to my little brother's advice was anything to go by.)

"This isn't like the Trojan war," I said. "Or that time in Paris."

Hermes acknowledged that and then looked away. The whole thing with his sneaky treacherous son had been his wake up call. Maybe that was why he was suddenly out here giving me pep talks. Maybe once I was a god again I'd look back on this - my wake up call apparently - and start handing out advice like a more attractive, better dressed life guru.

"Caligula isn't going to stop himself. And he's not going to stop killing people just because you're having a crisis and couldn't make a decision if the world depended on it. Which it might get to the point where it does, so help us."

I would be better at pep talks than Hermes. Calm. Serene. A white jacket to symbolise my pure, unselfish thought.

He was glaring at me.

"You zoned out," he said. "I'm hoping that was because you were having an epiphany about how right  I am."

"I was thinking about our next move against Caligula and the Triumvirate," I said. "You know completely coincidentally after your talk."

"Riiiiight," Hermes said dragging the word out. "Well whatever you do can you hurry it up? All this communication mess up has started interfering with our TV and I'm missing Extreme Makeover: Olympus edition."

"Right," I said, a little waspishly. "I wouldn’t want you to miss that.”

He gave me a sarcastic salute and picked his way out of the tent, accidentally on purpose jogging the tent as he left which had another faceful of water spilling down onto me. It was a petty, but pretty tame parting given the kind of practical jokes he usually played but perhaps he felt pity for me for my fragile mortal state. I reached for the last protein bar while I thought about our next moves. My fingers scrabbled against empty space.

I cursed Hermes loudly and bitterly and hoped Meg would hurry on back with some food.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I attempt first person. Not convinced I pulled it off. Third person is much more my comfort zone haha!


End file.
